


Body and soul

by fromthedeskoftheraven



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Sex, Nudity, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 02:07:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5988454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthedeskoftheraven/pseuds/fromthedeskoftheraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chapter 8 of the Mapmaker Series. A human woman joins the company of Thorin Oakenshield on the quest to Erebor as a mapmaker and finds a lifelong love.</p>
<p>Thorin and his bride celebrate their wedding night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Body and soul

Far away in the Great Hall, the wedding festivities went on. Erebor still echoed with music and laughter, stories and songs. You, however, had been ceremoniously excused from the feast, and now stood in the bedchamber, fiddling nervously with the laces of your flowing nightgown and awaiting the arrival of your husband. Your _husband._ The word was strange and sweet on your tongue, and your heart seemed to flutter in your chest like a little bird in anticipation of his coming, and of the night that lay ahead. You had slept by Thorin’s side before. But that had been only huddling for warmth by a campfire, or nursing his wounds after the battle. Sharing the marriage bed was an altogether different and unfamiliar prospect, one that made your cheeks flush to think of it.

The young dwarrowdam who now served as your lady’s-maid bustled about in the background, lighting candles, plumping pillows, throwing sweet herbs on the fire. You both started when the knock came, and exchanged sheepish grins as she went to the door to admit Thorin. She quickly curtsied to him and he inclined his head to her, with a kind smile. “Thank you for everything, Bila,” you smiled warmly on the girl, “good night.” 

“Good night, my lady,” she answered, and went out, quietly closing the door behind her.

Feeling suddenly shy, and wishing to break the tension, you dropped an exaggerated curtsy of welcome before Thorin, saying playfully, “my King.” 

He smiled in amusement, bowing in an equally formal fashion. “My Queen.” You laughed and ran into his arms, and he hugged you tightly and kissed your forehead before pulling back to look into your eyes. “We are married,” he said, a sort of happy awe in his voice. 

“We are married,” you repeated, smiling, thrilling with emotion.

He released you and stood back to remove his robe and drape it over one of the chairs by the fireplace, and your heart raced to see him clad only in his nightclothes, a lightweight tunic and trousers. He pulled off his soft leather slippers and crossed the floor on bare feet to embrace you once again. His arms were around your waist, his hand rubbing your back soothingly as he glanced around the room. “How do you find our new chambers?” 

“They’re perfect,” you replied, running your hand up his chest to rest on the back of his neck, “especially because I am to share them with you.” 

He smiled, and kissed you. And kissed you again. And gradually Thorin’s kisses, usually so courtly and controlled, became hot, hungry. His hands on your lower back pressed your body against his as you wove your fingers into his thick hair, pulling him even closer.

Just as you felt you would be swept away by this new fervor, Thorin seemed to collect himself. His hold on you loosened, and he tore his lips away from your eager mouth and rested his flushed cheek against yours. He took a deep breath and then met your eyes, looking rueful. “I am sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I do not mean to overwhelm you. We can go slowly.” 

“I am not overwhelmed,” you whispered. As if to prove your point, you grasped the hem of his tunic and began to pull it up, all the way over his head and raised arms, and tossed it aside.

Oh, he was breathtaking. His broad, muscular chest and shoulders, his strong arms, his regal mane of hair…he was breathtaking, and he was yours. The thought gave you boldness, and your hands went to your own clothing. You untied the laces that closed the neckline of your gown, but it was Thorin who slowly pushed the fabric from your shoulders, letting the loose garment slip to the floor. You blushed furiously to stand bare before him, but his eyes took in your form with a rapturous look. “My beautiful one,” he breathed. Gently, he took you in his arms, his voice husky. “Amrâlimê…I wish to learn what pleases you.” Not trusting your own voice, you pressed your trembling lips to his, and he swept you off your feet and carried you to the bed, laying you down on the soft coverings. He shed his trousers – curse your crimson cheeks! – and crawled onto the bed to resume kissing you with abandon. 

He trailed kisses down your neck and across your collarbone before returning to your lips, peppering them with soft, sweet caresses as your hands roamed over his back and shoulders, feeling the strength of his taut muscles beneath your palms. You opened your eyes, breathless, to find that he had raised himself on his elbow to simply look at you, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. The expression in his beautiful blue eyes was love, desire, wonder, happiness, and pride, all at once, and you were struck anew by the depth and fierceness of your love for him…your husband. A smile passed between you, and you nodded slightly, giving him the unspoken permission you knew he would seek.

Afterwards, when the thundering of your heartbeats had subsided, you lay facing each other under the warm bedcovers. A contented smile lit Thorin’s rugged features as he tenderly cupped your face with his hand, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. “That was wonderful, amrâlimê,” he said quietly. 

“It was,” you agreed, pressing a kiss to the pad of his thumb as he stroked it softly across your lips, then, smiling mischievously at him, “we must do it again sometime.” 

He laughed, that deep, rumbling chuckle you loved to hear, and asked, “how does tomorrow morning suit you?” 

“Hmmm…” you paused in mock indecision. “I believe I may be willing tomorrow morning.” You giggled, and he grinned broadly as you kissed him once more.

Sated and sleepy, you turned over, nestling close against Thorin, his arm around your waist, your back pressed to his chest. He kissed your bare shoulder, then settled his head on the pillow, nuzzling into your neck. Lying in his arms, feeling the comforting warmth of his breath on the back of your neck, you’d never felt happier or safer, and you blinked as joyful tears glazed your vision. “I love you,” Thorin whispered, close to your ear. “For as long as life is given to me, I will love you.” 

“And I love you,” you whispered back, interlacing your fingers with his. “With all my heart.”


End file.
